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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185440">Digital Lullaby</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/armajesty/pseuds/armajesty'>armajesty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Technological Advancement [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(it's only mentioned though), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Self-Doubt, Varian Has Issues (Disney)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:55:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/armajesty/pseuds/armajesty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt: Varian, who’s lonely and depressed, texts a random number in search of a friend. Hugo is the one who receives the message. </p><p>It was meant to be a one-off situation. He had only intended to text the number once, as he had been looking for someone to talk to-- no. Yearing was the proper word. He had been yearning for someone to talk to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hugo/Varian (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms), Quirin &amp; Varian (Disney)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Technological Advancement [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Digital Lullaby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! I would like to preemptively give a huge thank you to everyone who has encouraged me to write this. I have been trying to get back into writing for ages, and they've given me just the kick I need.</p><p>I also want to thank PeachyPuffin (McStar849) for Beta-reading! Working with them has been an absolute pleasure, and they really made a huge difference in the final project.</p><p>Before we start, I may have included a bit of a challenge for everyone. I encourage anyone interested to try and decipher Varian's phone password. (I've told some of my friends so no cheating)! Feel free to comment on the answer below, or to send me a personal message!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was meant to be a one-off situation. He had only intended to text the number once, as he had been looking for someone to talk to-- no. Yearing was the proper word. He had been yearning for someone to talk to. He had never meant for it to develop into a conversation between him and a stranger. He hadn’t even meant for the text to be sent to an active number in the first place.</p><p>Varian: Hi.</p><p>Was the message he had sent. Nothing extravagant, really. It shouldn’t have, by any means, been deemed as interesting or some kind of conversation starter. The word was a simple greeting, one that he believed would never receive a response.</p><p>It was meant to be a one-off situation. He had only intended to text the number once, as he had been looking for someone to talk to-- no.<em> Yearing </em> was the proper word. He had been <em> yearning </em> for someone to talk to. He had never meant for it to develop into a conversation between him and a stranger. He hadn’t even meant for the text to be sent to an <em> active </em> number in the first place.</p><p> </p><p><b>Varian: Hi</b>.</p><p> </p><p>Was the message he had sent. Nothing extravagant, really. It shouldn’t have, by any means, been deemed as interesting or some kind of conversation starter. The word was a simple greeting, one that he believed would never receive a response.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t expected anyone to receive the message, let alone for the individual on the other end to <em> reply </em> to his greeting with a simple, </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>‘Quirin’: Hello?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t intended for them to continue chatting after their first interaction, let alone become close friends. He had just been bored. He had been alone. <em> So alone </em>. </p><p> </p><p>He missed him.</p><p> </p><p>Their improbable relationship started when Varian felt the familiar twitch of a phone vibrating against his chest. He let out a soft laugh as the buzz tickled his skin, an annoying tingling sensation running through his torso. The boy rested a hand on top of the cool device, lifting it up to meet his eyes. He cringed away from the bright light assaulting his gaze, squinting as his eyes began to adjust.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> One new notification!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The alert that popped up was neatly printed along the centre of the screen. He let out a silent groan at the stranger’s persistence, heaving himself up into a sitting position on the bed. The soft mattress shifted beneath Varian as he pushed himself backwards, against the headboard.</p><p> </p><p><em> Am I really going through with this? </em>The ravenette pondered to himself as he chanced a glance at the alarm clock on his left. The dark, digital lettering on the clock glowed a crimson red, with 2:45 AM scribed along the screen.</p><p> </p><p>Varian’s gaze was pulled back to the phone as he felt a harsh buzz against his hand. He unlocked the screen, quickly typing in his password.</p><p> </p><p>7-8-3-3-4-4-3-7</p><p> </p><p>He unlocked the dark screen, his eyes overwhelmed by the increase in brightness that followed. Varian sleepily navigated his way through the device before selecting the neon, green blur that he recognized as his messaging app. At the top of his contacts tab sat a number, one that was still saved under ‘Quirin’. He’d have to change that.</p><p> </p><p>Varian hesitated for a brief moment before tapping his finger against the screen and selecting the most recent conversation.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>‘Quirin’: Who is this? </b>
</p><p> </p><p>A hot ball of shame pooled up in Varian’s stomach and he stared at the message. Why couldn’t this stranger just accept being left on read? He dragged his knees up against his chest, hugging them close with his arms. Varian buried his face into his legs, shaking his head furiously.</p><p> </p><p><em> What am I doing? </em> He pondered to himself. The feeling of humiliation that had been building inside of him morphed into something grotesque. It was a monster that corroded his heart. That played with the feelings he was trying to bury deep down. He couldn’t help but feel selfish for what he was doing. This stranger over the phone wasn’t a therapist. They hadn’t signed up to deal with Varian’s issues. He was acting childish as always.</p><p> </p><p>Varian pulled his head out of his knees before drawing in a deep breath. He began to type away against his keyboard, letting the words vomit onto the screen. Once he began typing, he found it hard to stop.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Varian: I’m so sorry. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to have this number, and now that someone does I don’t know if that makes this better or worse.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Do you ever just feel lonely? Even though I have people around who care about me, I never felt like I actually belong with them.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I did some horrible things to my friends-- and my family-- not long ago and I know they’ve forgiven me but I can’t bring it upon me to forgive myself. I lost my dad as a result of my own stupid and selfish behaviour. This is his old number and I didn’t realize someone else had it now. I just wanted to send him one last message.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He blinked down at the words he had sent as regret inched its way into his heart. Varian tossed the cellphone in an upward arch towards the end of his bed. He watched as it landed on his duvet, sinking into the fabric. He leaned backwards while running a shaky hand through his hair, tugging harshly against the knots that had formed in his prior struggle to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>His hand twitched as he stared at the device resting near the end of the bed. There was a nagging urge in the back of his mind, tempting him towards the phone. The feeling spurred him onwards until he found himself rolled onto his stomach, phone in hand. Varian quickly unlocked the screen, disappointment settling in his stomach as he stared at his text chat with the stranger.</p><p> </p><p>Of course. It was foolish of him to believe there was any way this person would text him back, especially at two in the morning. He couldn’t help but let out a hysterical laugh, lifting his free hand up, pressing the base into his eyelid. How stupid of him to believe someone might really want to talk to him.</p><p><br/>His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden vibrating in his hand. The buzzing continued as Varian allowed his right hand to drop to his side, gaping down at the phone in his left. He sucked in a breath of air, sitting up properly on the bed as he took in the number on the screen.</p><p> </p><p>“H-He’s calling…?” The boy stammered to himself, scrambling for purchase on the device.  His thumb hovered over the green icon that would let him accept the call. Is this really what he wanted? </p><p> </p><p>Varian shook his head, pushing his thoughts aside. He couldn’t let himself have any second thoughts. There was something deep inside of him that wanted to answer the call. That wanted to pick up the phone and see what the person on the other end of the line had to say. He wondered if the person would make fun of him, or tease him for texting a complete stranger about his problems. He wondered if they might tell him it was going to be okay, if they were going to help him fight his way through these debilitating feelings.</p><p> </p><p>There was only one way to find out.</p><p> </p><p>Varian selected the green icon, slowly raising his arm up to press the speaker against his ear. He could feel his own hand trembling against the side of his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello?” Varian spoke, his voice wavering and pitching an octave too high. He couldn’t hold back against the light blush that worked its way onto his cheeks. <em> Stupid </em>. He scolded himself.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m lonely too.” The voice from the other side spoke suddenly. Varian was shocked by the sound, it certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting. The person’s voice was smoky and low, as if they didn’t want anyone else to hear.</p><p> </p><p>“My dad…” Varian started, trailing off as if he wasn’t sure what to say. The boy shifted his position on the bed, folding his legs in his lap as he got comfortable. He steadied himself before mustering up the courage to continue,</p><p> </p><p>“This used to be his old number. That was before he got sick. The doctor’s worked so hard to help him. <em> I </em> tried so hard, but in the end, there was nothing that could be done,” Varian continued to explain, a hysteric edge grappling onto his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey..” The person on the other end of the line attempted to soothe him, their voice softening considerably. Varian could hear shuffling through the speaker before the stranger spoke up again.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t we start with an introduction then, stranger?” They teased, lightly. The tenderness in his voice was enough to take an edge off of Varian’s anxiety.<br/><br/>“I’m Varian.” The ravenette murmured, absentmindedly pulling at the loose fabric of his duvet with his free hand.</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Hugo.” <em> Hugo </em> replied quickly. “Sorry about your Dad.”</p><p> </p><p>Varian couldn’t help but release the small laugh that he had been holding in. He slid his hand along the mattress, latching on the side and using his strength to drag himself to the edge of his bed. Varian unfolded his legs and placed them upon the floorboards, which were cool beneath his bare feet from the night air. The boy shifted his weight onto his legs, hoisting himself up onto his feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” Varian chimed in after the awkwardly long pause. He slowly made his way over to his closet, tugging open the wooden doors with an obnoxious <em> creak. </em> “I’m really sorry for bothering you at 2 in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Correction, Mickey Mouse. It’s 3 in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>Varian pulled the cellphone away from his ear, blinking as the screen lit up. 3:24. He was surprised to see how much time had passed between his first text and the most recent one. He quickly pressed the speaker back against his ear as he heard the boy on the other side speak up.</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously, don’t sweat it. I was already awake when you texted.” Hugo reassured him, but Varian could hear the yawn the boy was trying to stifle from his side of the phone.</p><p> </p><p>Varian reached up to tug harshly against a sweater caught on its hanger from inside his closet. The pullover was faded, blue, and clearly worn with time. Printed on the front of the article in a bolded, grey font was ‘Coronan Stallions’. It had been a hand-me-down from his father.</p><p> </p><p>He pulled the oversized hoodie over his head before making his way back over to the bed and taking a seat back on the edge. The mattress dipped as his weight added to it, gravity guiding the soft cushion downwards. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Man, </em> this conversation is feeling quite one sided.” Hugo stated with a dramatic edge to his voice. Varian could hear as the other boy’s bed creaked obnoxiously. His new friend was likely leaning back against a creaky, old bed frame. He listened quietly as Hugo began to hum a tune on the line, the melody closely resembling a lullaby his mother used to sing to him as a child.</p><p> </p><p>“I just miss him a lot.” Varian finally broke his unspoken vow of silence. He wrapped his free arm around his waist and clutched the loose fabric of his father’s sweater to keep it from pooling onto his legs. “When I first got the news, it didn’t feel real.”</p><p> </p><p>Hugo’s whistling died out as Varian found his voice again. </p><p> </p><p>“Grief is a slow process..” Hugo admitted.</p><p> </p><p>“Will it ever start to feel real?”</p><p> </p><p>“Eventually.”</p><p> </p><p>Varian gave a heavy sigh as he flopped sideways, his head landing with an ‘oomph’ against the soft, cream coloured pillows. He kicked at his duvet, trying to maneuver the thick blanket on top of himself. The boy gave a huff in frustration as he gave up on using his legs. He curled inwards so he could reach the covers, and pull them over his body. Once he had tucked himself in the exhaustion hit him full force. A tidal wave of exhaustion crashed over him in an attempt to drag him into its clutches.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you stay on the line?” Varian asked softly, knowing full well it was a lot to demand of someone he’d just met. He couldn’t care less at the time. This was the person who had responded to his call for help.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” Hugo replied. Varian could hear shuffling on Hugo’s end for the third time before the familiar sound of paper flicking against paper filled the silence between them.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you mind if I read something?” The boy inquired, though Varian could tell he was fully prepared to do so anyways.</p><p><br/><br/>“Mhm.” Varian hummed sleepily. He let his eyes flutter closed. A familiar feeling of warmth settled over him as he lay wrapped in his father’s sweater underneath the covers. He slowly drifted to sleep to the sound of Hugo’s soft reading voice.</p><p> </p><p>And if the two boys made a habit of texting one another frequently, if they called each other every night just to exchange a simple ‘goodnight’, then none would be the wiser.</p>
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